


ZEVRIS

by ladyoflaurelindorenan



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Elves, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Sexy Times, Smut, Zevris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4441955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoflaurelindorenan/pseuds/ladyoflaurelindorenan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris and Zevran are walking together, when Fenris's conflicted feelings explode to the surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ZEVRIS

**Author's Note:**

> There's not enough Zevris on the net, if you ask me, so I decided to pen this short story. It is by far the dirtiest thing I have ever written, though I tried hard to write it artfully enough that it is not just _simply_ pornographic. (Ok, who am I kidding? It totally is just that.)
> 
> I'll also add that there is no context to this story. I have no idea why Fenris and Zevran are traveling together, nor do I have the slightest clue where they're going. I just wanted to write a romance between these two complex and sexy characters.

“Come now, you are too handsome an elf to be so broody all of the time,” Zevran said, his Antivan accent lyrical, and laced with seduction. “You will give yourself wrinkles with all of that brow-furrowing you do.”

“For the last time, you dallying dandy, I am not _brooding!_ Though if my brow is furrowed, it is in irritation of your incessant advances.” In stark contrast to the Antivan, Fenris’s voice was a low growl. 

Zevran tossed back his magnificent head, laughing. Everything was always so light-hearted with him. Perhaps it was a good thing for the two of them to be spending so much time together on the road. Fenris was always melancholy, lost in his own thoughts. The two elves really could not be more different from each other; their pointed ears and sun-kissed skin perhaps being the only things that made them alike. 

Zevran the rogue’s face was marked by three black slashes of ink that traced his high, chiseled cheekbone down to his graceful jaw. His eyes were a warm brown, the color of the Antivan brandy he was known to be fond of. His hair was sleek and golden and fell about his shoulders, framing his face like a lion’s mane. The leathers that he wore were a soft, sage green with gold embellishments, and there were many that considered his scaled skirt to be scandalously short for an elf of his stature. Such comments did not faze him, however. In fact, they had the opposite effect. “The better to show off my fabulous knee-high boots!” he would say, laughing. 

Fenris the warrior was quite the opposite. His hair was much shorter, though still shaggy, and it was a brilliant snow white. His skin was latticed with unique, swirling white markings that stood out against his tan. They were unlike the Dalish _vallaslin_ , and were not tattoos at all. _Lyrium-infused_ , some would say, though Fenris preferred not to talk about it. He wore tight black leather pants and a fitted jacket, accented by iridescent black feathers and scant silver armor. His eyes were a bright emerald green, his lips full and begging to be kissed. Zevran stared at them for this reason as the two walked along the forest path. 

“What are you looking at?” Fenris asked, annoyance breaking through the usual monotone of his voice. 

“I find I cannot help it, my friend. No matter how many times you turn me away, my eyes continue to stray in your direction—” 

Before the Antivan could finish, Fenris lost it. He gripped Zevran by the throat forcefully, but gently enough to still allow him to breathe. He slammed him against the nearest tree, a massive ancient oak. He was rough, but still somehow conscientious enough to have chosen a tree that was covered with cushioning moss. Leaves floated downward all around them, having been upset by the impact. Zevran breathed heavily at the sudden unexpected turn of violence and glanced down at the other elf’s hand around his throat. The markings that painted his skin had begun to glow with a bluish luminescence, though they faded just as quickly as they had appeared when Fenris realized what he had done. He slowly loosened his grip on the Antivan, who smiled a rakish grin. 

Fenris gazed downward a moment while he contemplated his next move. If he chose to channel the power of his lyrium markings, the Antivan assassin could be dead in an instant. But he wasn’t sure that he wanted that. His feelings had been confusing him so much the last few weeks that it tormented him. He looked up, meeting the other man’s eyes, and proceeded to furiously kiss him with surprising intensity. 

Zevran received the kiss eagerly, which was good, considering the mercilessness with which Fenris impressed himself upon him. When Zevran’s tongue forced apart the warrior’s rosebud lips, Fenris gasped, but allowed him in. He had feared this moment since they had first encountered each other, and yet he had wanted it desperately. Fenris’s hands caressed the rogue’s cheeks, pulling him closer. His kisses were fierce, aggressive, and yet Zevran savored the cool mint of his breath and urged him onward. Again, they were opposites, Fenris noted, as he inhaled the warm, citrusy scent of bergamot in Zevran’s hair. 

Zevran suddenly broke apart and forced Fenris against the tree so that they were now assuming each other’s previous positions. He stabilized himself by putting a hand on either side of the warrior’s head and proceeded to trace his neck and jawline with his full, sensual lips and adventurous tongue. 

Fenris inhaled sharply when the rogue’s tongue grazed the markings on his neck. Zevran paused, making eye contact with his paramour, as if to ask if he was alright. “Don’t stop,” Fenris whispered urgently. As Zevran continued, the warrior closed his eyes and grimaced. He had lived so long with the pain that it was difficult to tell it apart from pleasure anymore, though this time he could feel the latter sensation overriding his discomfort. The elegant markings along his neck began to glow blue and tingle with each brush of the rogue’s lips. He could feel the blood coursing through his veins, and between his legs. 

Zevran deftly maneuvered his hands to the other elf’s chest, stroking him with one while the other slid underneath the gold trim of Fenris’s jacket. He slowly began to unbutton the garment, trailing a finger along his chest as it became more and more exposed. The markings continued to light up at his teasing touch until, with Fenris’s assistance, the jacket could be torn off completely. They tossed it aside with reckless abandon.

Next, it was Fenris’s turn to help undress Zevran. He had already done so with his eyes many times along their journey, though he would have been ashamed to admit such a thing. He put his hands on Zevran’s narrow hips and slid the man’s leather hauberk up and off over his head. It ruffled the braid that partially tied back the rogue’s hair, making him look all the more desirable in a rough and tumble sort of way. He marveled at his lean physique. They were both slender, but toned. It was easy to underestimate an elf’s strength due to their svelte frames, but they could be just as capable of action as any muscular man. 

Zevran continued to take charge, much to Fenris’s approval. He didn’t know what his intentions were when he’d thrust them both so forcibly into this situation, and thankfully, being the libidinous lothario that he was, Zevran had no trouble continuing their tryst. Unlike Fenris, he was an expert when it came to matters of a sexual nature. Fenris found his lips parted once again to welcome the rogue’s exploring tongue before Zevran began to move downward. His kisses edged the contour of his chin and neck, making Fenris throw his head back against the tree with a mix of pleasure and pain. Zevran continued to kiss the other man’s chest, his sternum, and the hard abs of his stomach. Fenris could feel a burning desire begin to grow in his pants as the rogue came near. Zevran kissed the skin just below his navel, where the markings met each other in a delicate pattern that seemed to point downward toward his manhood. Fenris instinctively gripped the rogue’s hair and bit his lip. He could almost feel the other elven man’s hot breath on his package. 

Zevran suddenly sprang up again, much to Fenris’s chagrin. He was not done, though. He pressed himself up against the other man until the firmness of his own cock could be felt against his. Fenris breathed in and out rapidly, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. He was fearful, and yet he knew he could not turn back, nor did he want to. 

Zevran put one hand on the other man’s chest to calm him and let the other one slide down his body until it reached its destination. He stared unblinkingly into Fenris’s green eyes as he gripped the hard flesh in his strong hand. Fenris gasped again and found he could not look away from Zevran’s gaze as the rogue unbuttoned his pants. Zevran kissed him once more on the lips before dropping back down into a kneeling position. He steadied himself by placing a hand on either of the warrior’s narrow hips before proceeding to kiss the erection that was now visible from the leather pants that still clung uselessly to his person. He ran his tongue along the shaft until the lyrium markings glowed a brilliant blue. Fenris gripped the bark of the tree behind him so hard, he thought his hands might bleed. Zevran looked up with a devious smile and continued. Soon, he took the warrior’s cock greedily into his mouth. Fenris could feel it pulsating with rampant desire, any pain he felt now taking a backseat to the intense pleasure that threatened him to burst at any moment. He put a hand on Zevran’s head, urging him onward, though the rogue seemed to stop just as quickly as he had begun. Fenris felt himself throbbing madly as the other elf pulled away and stood up once again. “Not yet,” the rogue said, shaking his head. 

Now Zevran turned the other man around so that Fenris faced the tree. He placed his hands against the cool dampness of its moss and breathed in its earthy scent. For a moment, he wondered what he was doing, but had to remind himself that he just didn’t care anymore. There was only Zevran and that tree. He felt a gentle tug at his pants, which came down with some degree of effort. He had begun to work up a sweat, despite the chill in the early autumn air and the fog that hung about the trees around them. He was completely exposed now. There was no going back. He felt the heat of Zevran’s erection press against his bare bottom. _It feels huge,_ he thought. _Though I suppose I am about to find out what it really feels like._ In a moment, the rogue began to ease himself in. Fenris had to bite his lip to hold back a cry of pain. He clawed at the bark in front of him, his hands glowing that same ethereal blue as before. Just when he thought he could bear it no longer, the other elven man had pushed his way in completely. Danarius could not match this man’s girth, nor anything about him, really. Fenris hated himself for thinking about his old slave master at a time like this. He let out a ragged breath as Zevran glided back out again. In, and out, in and out. Slowly. He began to accept the man’s size much more easily now. When Zevran sensed this, he thrust more deeply, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. After what felt like an eternity of slow, torturous gyrations, the rogue began to move his hands lightly over Fenris’s pubic bone, caressing downward to his thighs. He finally stopped at the warrior’s shaft and wrapped a hand firmly around it, stroking up and down. 

Fenris could no longer resist the urge to cry out. He had never felt such pleasure before. He gazed upward into the canopy, his mouth hanging open as his breathing became more and more staccato and labored. Zevran gripped harder on his manhood, thrusting deeper and faster with each silken stroke. They were making so much noise that a flock of birds shot up into the leaves nearby. They hardly noticed and Zevran plunged even more deeply to the point in which Fenris thought he might break from the force of it. Finally, he felt the pleasure rising in his cock until he could stand it no longer. Zevran’s hand slid up and down the smooth hard skin until he felt the warrior’s body tense. He stopped stroking just in time; the head exploded with a cascade of glowing, shimmering fluid. So the lyrium affected him in more ways than one. While Fenris was bursting, Zevran finally allowed himself to release simultaneously. He was so skilled, he could choose when it happened. Fenris felt the warm rush of ejaculate fill him from the inside while his own continued to spurt out, coating Zevran’s hand in its sparkling viscosity. He let out another long breath and felt the tension leave his body completely. He collapsed against the tree, and there the two elves remained for some time.


End file.
